Dangerous Pursuits 2
by John1965
Summary: Continuing the adventures of Brett Mordonius...


Brett shifted slightly and rolled his shoulder to relieve a crick in his neck.

He had been hiding on a rooftop three stories up, under an enchanted cloak that allowed him to blend into the background, for fifteen hours now…watching and waiting patiently. It wasn't invisibility, but it was the next best thing as long as he stayed still against a surface.

Across the road, witches and wizards came and went, entering and leaving the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. He was waiting for one wizard in particular.

Looking down with a small spotter scope, he surveyed the faces…and was amused at the way all the Muggles just walked right on by, not realising what was before their eyes. When he thought that, he was also struck with a pang of what could probably be called jealosy…that while he could see the magical world, he could never participate in it fully or fit in there properly, and would always be looked at as someone…who had something wrong with them.

Then he was lucky enough to see it happen…something that brightened his day and wiped away his dark thoughts.

A small child, probably five, was walking along the busy London street, holding her mothers hand. As they passed the Leaky cauldron, the child stopped and pulled her mother to a halt. He couldn't hear what the kid was saying, but she appeared to be pointing at the doorway of the Cauldron and pulling hard, as if she was curious and wanted to go inside, as her mother waved her free hand and pointed up the street. The mother looked at the entrance to the pub, but obviously saw nothing. She knelt and said something, accentuated by a waggling finger and a dismissive wave of her hand at the wall where the Cauldron was located. The child dropped her head and glumly followed mum back along the street, with only a sad backward glance. At that moment a grandmotherly old witch standing in the doorway gave the child a little wave, and the little girl waved back, smiling.

That kid will probably be receiving a letter from Hogwarts in another few years, which will most likely shock the hell out of her parents. Brett knew he was privileged to see that little exchange, and felt sorry for the kid who couldn't understand why her mother couldn't see what she plainly could.

He could vividly remember the time leading up to his eleventh birthday, the happy expectation of his parents looking forward to yet another family member at Hogwarts, continuing the ancient line going right back to the beginnings of the school itself. The day came and went, but no owl. Oh, it's just a clerical error, said his father and mother with a nervous little laugh, Dumbledore knows what he's doing. They had, of course, noticed that he hadn't shown any signs of juvenile magical power during his childhood, but his older brother just shrugged it off.

"Come on father, you know I was at Hogwarts for two years before any magic would start working for me, I was hopeless but it all turned around for me OK. Brett's just a late bloomer, nothing to worry about!" ,and they all nodded and smiled, but Brett could remember listening in on the conversation and getting the feeling that they weren't at all convinced…then came the visit at the family mansion by Dumbledore and Minerva MacGonagall…

All he could remember…all he chose to remember about that stressful time…was some tests being done by Albus and Minerva, a funny rumpled old hat being put on his head, some sadly spoken words and shakes of the head from Dumbledore…his father with a frozen resigned look on his face as he nodded numbly as Dumbledore stood with a hand on his shoulder…his mother sobbing by the window with her back turned, trying not to show the tears as she was comforted by Minerva…

At least his older brother William and his children would be continuing the honourable family line at Hogwarts. Brett would have really felt despair if he had been an only son and the family line finished with him, unless of course he could have a witch or a wizard for a child, you never know. Oh well.

But back to work.

Brett watched…and waited.

An hour later, just on sunset, he saw a bright green Ministry of Magic car pull to a halt outside the Cauldron. He tensed. Out of the car stepped a witch and a wizard, and the car pulled away sharply, carving through the traffic with ease. The witch wasn't anyone he knew, but the wizard was.

He was forty-eight years old, from a pure blood family, and worked in a minor job at the Ministry as a paper-pusher in record keeping…which allowed him access to file rooms and other information. He ate eggs on toast every morning for breakfast at his tastefully furnished flat in Soho, had a penchant for bright yellow shirts and a dark red cloak, and liked classical music, especially Bach. He should also feed his pet Patagonian singing fish more often, but that was OK because Brett had fed the poor undernourished thing himself when he broke into the flat two nights before.

He was also, despite his nondescript appearance, a Death Eater.

But this wasn't the sign he was looking for. One more piece of the puzzle had to fall into place.

Brett watched the witch enter the Cauldron, and the man remained standing on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street, obviously waiting for someone.

Then he came.

A dark blue Rolls Royce pulled up to the kerb, and a man stepped out, impeccably attired in a grey shimmering silk suit. Brett knew he was a Muggle who was working for Voldemort. The wizard handed him a CD case quickly, and they talked for a moment. When the man was finished talking, he started to get back in the car and this was Bretts signal to move…he had firm instructions on what to do…get the items in that case and the investigation would be over…it didn't matter what happened to the men after that.

With a glance to make sure no innocent Muggles were close by, he lined up his sights, and flicked off the safety on his Remington heavy-barrelled sniper rifle. Two clean shots later, and the two men were dead before they even heard the bang.

By the time Brett got down to the street, a crowd had gathered, both magic folk from the Cauldron, and Muggles. Brett rushed over, carrying a small black doctors bag.

"Stand back please, stand back there, give me room, I'm a doctor."

Her knelt and felt for a pulse, but it was obvious to anyone that no medical training was needed to see that they were both dead. Brett surreptitiously pocketed the CD case and also the wallets of both men. He stood and looked at the crowd.

"Has anyone called the police! There's nothing I can do for these men."

Someone held up their mobile phone and said they had already done it, and indeed Brett could hear the rising wail of sirens approaching.

Time to go.

He shook his head sadly and backed away slowly through the crowd of onlookers who, driven by morbid curiosity and the 'monkey reflex' of rushing towards any large gathering of people to see what's happening, allowed him to sneak off before anyone knew where he'd gone.

After retrieving his rifle and enchanted cloak, he got into his car, a black late-70's Chevrolet four door sedan, down a back alley nearby. Not exactly an inconspicuous car to be driving around in London, but it was large enough to carry a lot of equipment, and had a powerful motor, with long legs for high speed running. Dumbledore had made a few little "modifications" to it as well which gave it a few special features not found in the dealer catalogue.

Brett pulled out his laptop computer and opened the CD wallet. Inside were three CD-Roms and a DVD.

He decided to scan through the DVD first, and found it contained film which was obviously taken from a black and white CCD surveillance camera. From the angle it must have been hidden across from the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. It was time lapse, and also seemed to only activate when someone used the entrance, because the time code at the bottom skipped forwards quite often. There was no sound, but the picture was very clear, and he could plainly see the faces of those who were coming and going at the phone booth. Brett watched for a while and fast forwarded, taking note of the time index. The disc covered about two weeks worth of time.

Putting one of the CD-Roms in the drive, Brett found it to be scanned documents, page after page covering a register of names and addresses of witches and wizards, which, while interesting information, was no big deal, however (Jackpot!) it also more disturbingly contained supposedly secret listings of the addresses of Squibs and other folk who were only a little talented in magic. That was obviously the information to be passed on…that was what Voldemort was after. Voldemort had tried to obtain the information covertly through a third party and then could either "remove them as a possible threat" or use them somehow to bolster his own power.

Brett put the computer away and gunned the powerful engine, squeeling the tyres out into the night streets, making one brief stop, and then headed back towards his country home which he used when he was on assignment near London.

That night Brett sat at his home computer, working through the files.

He had sent an owl to Dumbledore explaining what had happened, and he knew that while the old man wouldn't approve of his methods, it was what he did best.

The use of a computer by the wizard was particularly interesting. He knew that if Dumbledore managed to get the CD's, he couldn't read them because computers don't work around Hogwarts and it would take precious time to find somewhere to view them. Besides, many magical folk didn't bother with computers and such Muggle devices anyway, so perhaps he thought it was a safe way to store stolen information? Why not use some spell to memorise the information? Maybe the traitorous wizard he killed had a particularly bad memory. Who knew? Brett might pick up some more information later when he went through the hard drive he had taken from the dead mans computer.

Brett closed the computer down and walked out into the moonlight. The school year would be starting in another month. Dumbledore would be visiting soon to check his progress, and when school started, he would move back to his cottage outside Hogsmeade to be prepared to help defend the school if needed.

He decided to go to bed. Before going, he stopped at the large new glass tank in his hallway, and checked on the Patagonian singing fish he had rescued from the dead wizards apartment. It was lying on a rock sticking up out of the water, basking happily under a sun lamp which shone above the tank. It was humming a bright little tune that sounded awfully like "Popeye the Sailor Man", and looked very well fed and pleased with itself at its new surroundings.

Brett was woken by an owl hooting softly at his bedroom window just after dawn the next day. He took the proffered message and the owl flew away. He walked down to get some breakfast and read the scroll while the coffee brewed.

The letter was from Dumbledore.

"Brett, I don't think I need tell you of the distaste I have for some of the things you have to do. However, I am glad you do it for us and not for any other "group", if you know what I mean. These are going to be nasty times, and I accept nasty things sometimes need to be done. The Ministry has let me know that there will be no public enquiry into what has occurred, and are glad to be rid of the man who had been stealing information. They assure me that they are going to be much more thorough in their safety precautions relating to paper documents from now on.

I regret to inform you that they have, however, turned down my request to let you into the Ministry itself to see if you can uncover any more "moles", I believe you called them.

Thank you once again, I know you do not enjoy what you have to do, and if you need any help at all, just send me an owl.

Albus Dumbledore.

Headmaster,

Hogwarts School of

Witchraft & Wizardry."

Brett read it again, and was a bit perplexed by its meaning.

He couldn't figure out if Dumbledore was angry with him for killing the two traitors, or approved of it. Oh well. What had to be done was done.

He sat down and had his morning coffee.

Later that morning he was driving through London, on his way to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic.

When he reached the spot, he parked by the kerb and let the engine idle for a minute, listening to the rough, lopey sound of the big V8, and then he pushed the column gearshift up into 'Park' and turned off the key.

While he watched for any unusual activity, he considered a few things.

Could he just shoot Voldemort? Sit five hundred, maybe even a thousand meters away and put a bullet through the back of his head? Possibly.

But then again, someone as powerful as he was would probably sense a bullet coming…or would he? Would he sense the approach of something as small as a bee travelling at 3000 feet or more per second and which would reach him before the sound of the shot?

He greatly suspected that Voldemort would be harder than that to kill.

Brett went through a lot of things in his mind…car bombs, rocket attacks, sharp sticks, rocks…any sort of weapon at all. However, every time he thought of something, his mind also came up with a logical explanation why it wouldn't work.

Maybe, as Dumbledore had confided in him, fate may well decree that young Harry Potter and Voldemort would just have to have it out eventually and one would win and one would lose. It was up to Brett and other investigators to weed out the middle-men and remove them, either to prison, or something more permanent…

Brett decided there was nothing to be learned here, and started his car and drove away, still deep in thought.

As he was leaving London, Brett noticed the car following him was still there. In a final effort to lose the green Ministry car, he swung into an alleyway and accelerated wildly, the rear end breaking away and sliding as he shot out the other end onto a main road amongst quite heavy traffic.

A glance in the mirror showed that the Ministry car was doing its usual easy progress, the traffic seeming to open gaps just in time to let it through. Brett shot past a frightened Bobby at nearly eighty miles an hour as he headed back towards the city, weaving through the cars doing only half his speed.

Finally he had to slow for an intersection and threw the car into a wild turn, the big sedan smoking its tyres as he spun and headed back the way he had come, into oncoming traffic, which parted for him as it did for the Ministry car…except it was from panic rather than magic. He clutched the wheel and pressed down harder on the gas as the Ministry car approached from the other direction. Brett gritted his teeth and headed straight for it, and went through it like it wasn't even there, just a momentary flash of green and he was on his way again. Brett reached an open piece of road and took an on-ramp to a main motorway, he didn't notice which one, just a highway where he could open the car up.

As he accelerated through the motorway traffic, using all the lanes and swerving effortlessly past the slower cars, he watched his speed climb to 130 miles an hour. The big V8 was roaring nicely and the car smoothly sped along on its low-slung suspension and wide tyres.

He then reached out and pressed a chrome button on the dash and the invisibility gear kicked in. He braked sharply and swerved across three lanes on traffic to pull up under an overpass, and he watched the traffic carefully.

After a couple of minutes, he saw it…the green Ministry of Magic car, sweeping along effortlessly and dividing the traffic before it, as it flew past where he was parked and kept on going.

Brett sat back and thought hard…why was the Ministry following him like that? He **_had_** been sitting outside the entrance and watching for quite a while now…maybe they had noticed and wondered what he was up to…it could be as simple as that.

Or…

Perhaps the man he had shot had friends who still worked in the Ministry and wanted him silenced…

The possibilities only pointed in a couple of directions, neither of which he cared to take…upsetting the dead wizards friends could be dangerous…but upsetting the Ministry too much and becoming a thorn in their side meant the gates of Azkabhan prison beckoned…it would be far too easy for a Muggle like him to be made to disappear…

He started his car and swung the big black sedan back out into the traffic, still invisible, and took an off-ramp that lead back towards the road that would take him home.

Two days later, he decided to go back and have a more careful look at what was going on around the Ministry. This time he would make judicious use of the invisibility feature, something he cursed himself for not doing in the first place.

He got into his car, bade goodbye to the elderly wizard tending his gardens (who seemed to be swearing at some Gnomes amongst the roses), and drove off towards London.

As he approached the area where the Ministry was located, he saw a rapid movement out of the corner of his eye and slammed on the brakes, the big sedan slewing across the road, narrowly missing a thin dark-haired boy who ran right out in front of him, followed by a taller red-haired lad. They were sprinting across the road, and Brett watched in horror as a black Taxi, approaching from the opposite direction, narrowly missed turning them both into strawberry jam. The taxi jammed itself solidly into the side of a parked double-decker bus with a rending bang as it swerved violently to avoid them.

Brett was about to hurl abuse at the boys for their foolishness, when four men in flowing hooded robes and with wands drawn ran across the road after the boys.

They were obviously wizards, and none too concerned about being seen by Muggles. Several shots of magical energy blasted after the boys, one of them demolishing a news stand and flinging the unfortunate stall holder across the footpath to strike a brick wall with a sickening thud.

Brett then realised who the dark haired boy was, and wrenched the steering wheel around, and with smoking tyres sped off down the narrow one-way side road where the group had run.

He approached quickly, and saw the four wizards again firing blasts at the fleeing boys, who managed to duck and weave and sidestep adroitly, missing all the bursts from the Death Eaters wands…for they surely were Death Eaters to be behaving with as little regard for the laws of magic as they were demonstrating.

One of them paused briefly on the edge of the road and held his wand high, taking careful aim and preparing to send a blast at the fleeing boys. Brett floored the accelerator and the black Chev leaped forward with a squeal of tortured tyres on tarmac. He leaned on the horn and the Death Eater turned his head, and inside the hood Brett had the briefest glimpse of eyes wide with shock.

Then came the impact.

A smashing crunch, a lurching jolt, a flash of a cloaked body flying back over the roof, and the two ton sedan sped on at nearly fifty miles an hour.

Brett skidded to a hard stop and leapt out of the car, sweeping aside his long black coat and pulling out a Heckler and Koch MP-5 machine gun. The narrow street was clear of pedestrians, who had all run inside as the blasts of magical energy wreaking havoc around them, so Brett felt safe to fire. He aimed across the roof of his car, past the two startled boys, and fired a few quick three shot bursts at the Death Eaters, one of whom was struck and fell in a crumpled heap. He raised the gun and yelled to the two boys, who were standing stunned by what they had just seen.

"Harry! Get in the car, quickly!"

Brett could see the remaining two Death Eaters approaching fast, after stopping for a moment to inspect the broken bodies of their comrades. They did however seem a little more wary now, a bit more careful and not rushing into things.

Harry looked puzzled and a little afraid.

"But, but who are you?"

Brett didn't have time for this.

"Just get in the fucking car, Potter! Now, you stupid fool, if you want to live! That goes for your friend too!"

Harry didn't hesitate this time. His friend also ran and the two of them jumped in and barely got the door closed as Brett jumped in the drivers seat, gunned the powerful engine and sped away from the startled Death Eaters, who had hesitated too long. They only had time to cast a final spell which missed the car by inches, but which burst a large hole in the side of a bus shelter beside the road.

Harry and his friend sat quietly. They were watching, slightly afraid, as Brett steered quickly but carefully through the morning traffic, and finally his friend in the back seat sat forward.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

Brett didn't answer right away, concentrating on watching his rear view mirror and avoiding the traffic as he headed for a safe area of the city.

"Damn Death Eaters are getting cocky, coming right out on the high street in daylight to do their dirty work."

Harry looked at Brett with a badly faked puzzled look.

"Erm, what are you talking about Sir, what's a Death Eater?"

"Don't play the fool with me Harry Potter. Now I think about it, I suppose your friend here is Ron Weasley. I know all about Hogwarts…I work there, though you probably haven't seen me. I know what Death Eaters are, and I know all about you too."

Harry looked slightly worried, as did Ron. Ron leaned forwards again.

"But, erm…I didn't know wizards got around in big black American cars." ,obviously trying to make light of the situation.

"I'm not a wizard." ,Brett said simply.

Harry looked at him, frowning.

"Are you a squib then?"

"No, I'm not a squib. I have no magic at all."

"But, if you're a Muggle, how come you work at Hogwarts? How come you know all about me? Do you have a child there?"

Brett turned the car into a side street, a quiet alley where he knew there was a little-used entrance to Diagon Alley. He parked the car, switched on the invisibility switch, and turned off the engine. He turned to the boys and took a deep breath.

"OK, here goes…" ,and he told them the whole story of who he was, what happened to his parents, what he did for a living, and how he now worked for Dumbledore as a guardian. He told them how he was the one and only Muggle ever born into an ancient pure-blood line, "not even a Squib…I have absolutely no latent talent at all, Dumbledore studied me closely when I was young, and said I never will have…some sort of birth defect I suppose", he added bitterly, and how his parents had both been killed by Death Eaters.

Harry nodded after Brett had finished speaking.

"We'd been out on our own…returning to the Order…erm…the house where we are staying, because we were sick of being cooped up and just wanted some air. That was when the Death Eaters found us. They disarmed both of us immediately, and we had to run for it. We know where our wands are, in a window box on a second story of a flower shop, but we didn't have time to use magic to get them back, because the Death Eaters just started blasting away."

Brett nodded.

"Well, I can drive you back there and you can pick up your wands, and unless you have somewhere else you should be," and he looked at them pointedly "we can go and do some window shopping in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore won't mind as long as you're with me, and the Alley should be pretty safe."

He knew they must have been at the headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix, and he knew where it was. He would return them there later, and if they had a mind to be out and about, an invisible car was a better way to travel than just walking around the streets in the open.

The two boys nodded enthusiastically, and he started the car again and drove back to retrieve the boys wands.

To be continued……


End file.
